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Home.
Mason’s home, I know, but for a short while, it was my home, too. Maybe it would have even been my permanent home, were I not walking to meet death as we speak.
It’s funny. In all my life, I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere. Not until him.
Now that I’ve found somewhere,someoneI belong to, it can only be classified as cruel irony that I have to walk away from it now.
I can’t tell you how many times I almost turn around and head back. At least a dozen before I reach the end of the street, but . . . then I turn the corner and start down Santa Monica Boulevard.
Tonight I’m giving myself up to my mother and while that might not seem too bad to most, for me, it means this is the end of the line. I’m not naïve enough to believe I’ll come back from this.
I texted her from Missy’s phone and left mine on the nightstand before I left. I’ll have no use for it now, and I refuse to leave it with her.
I’m nearly halfway down the sidewalk when a car rolls to a stop beside me.
“Hannah?”
I’m almost as shocked to see Ian as he is to see me.
“Ian? What are you doing out here?”
He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What areyoudoing out here? Where’s Mason?”
Fuck.
“He’s at his mother’s.” I’m ashamed of how small my voice sounds. And then an idea strikes. “We . . . had a fight.”
Ian doesn’t look pleased and not that I blame him, but I feel guilty for the disappointment in his face.
“You still shouldn’t be wandering the streets by yourself. It’s dangerous. Come on. I’ll give you a ride.”
“No, that’s okay. I’d like to walk.” I offer him a smile, but I can’t say it’s very generous. “I need to clear my head.”
“Hannah. Come on. Mason will kill me if I just let you roam around at night. Think of the shop.”
Dammit.
Conceding that there’s no way I’m getting out of this, I begrudgingly trudge forward.
Fine, Ian. Have it your way.
“Can you take me to the Greyhound station up on Wallace?”
He stops and stares at me, his hand on the gearshift of his old Mustang.
“Greyhound? As in the bus?”
I swallow over the lump in my throat. “Yes.”
“You’re leaving him.”
It’s not a question.
I suck in a deep breath, a shiver rolling through me, but I don’t think it’s from the cold.
“It’s for the best.”
He breathes out a sigh like I’ve just presented him with the choice of a lifetime. Betray his best friend or betray the woman who just climbed in his car.
